


20 Things You Didn’t Know About Cackle’s Academy - Number 9 Will Shock You!

by hacklesacademy (ladyvivien)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Clickbait Journalism, F/F, Fluffy Smut, Hackle, Lesbian teacher witches in love, Married Lesbians, So Married, Stuck in the Broom Closet, being outed, less-evil-than-canon Agatha, she's still a dick tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyvivien/pseuds/hacklesacademy
Summary: What if Agatha really had just come to Cackle's to research an article on Selection Day?





	20 Things You Didn’t Know About Cackle’s Academy - Number 9 Will Shock You!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fictorium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/gifts).



> Dedicated to Fictorium, even though this isn't her fandom, because...it's a fic about ladies marrying each other, so who the hell else was I going to gift it to?

She can’t stop Agatha from writing the article, and in the end it’s far more complimentary than she’d expected. Some history of the castle that even Ada herself had forgotten, and one or two childhood memories that make hot, nostalgic tears prickle at the corners of her eye. Not once is her suitability to run a school called in question, and the words ‘finest witching academy in Europe’ are used in a way that doesn’t sound remotely sarcastic. 

Number nine though… Number nine is a problem. Or, she corrects herself, will be a problem as soon as Hecate finds out about it.

Theoretically, Ada could have kept it from her forever - it isn’t as though the redoubtable HB, with her love of traditions and standards, has ever shown the slightest bit of interest in non-magical technology. In the end it’s Mildred Hubble’s mother, doing due diligence on the school her daughter will attend in September, who offers her congratulations and says how lovely it is to see a school so forward-thinking and diverse. Ada suspects that might have been what swayed her in the end, more than brooms and cats and the best magical education in Europe (she really needs to update their marketing material with that).

None of this placates Hecate, who manages to bite back a squeak of outrage long enough to sneer something about non-magical communities and their ridiculous prejudices. Ada sends Ms Hubble home with a snap of her fingers before lectures on witch trials, misogyny and ‘antiquated notions of sex and gender’ can really get started, although she suspects the other woman might actually have quite enjoyed it.

Once they are alone, however, it’s time for Ada to face the consequences of Agatha’s actions once again.

“ _Married_? Your sister wrote that we were married?” She says ‘sister’ in the same tone that she says ‘toad’ or ‘modern technology’ or ‘Mildred Hubble’.

“There’s no need to sound so surprised, darling, you were there. And looking very fetching, as I recall.”

Hecate scowls. “Flattery will get you precisely nowhere, Ada Cackle.”

Flattery has gotten Ada the best Potions Mistress in the country into her school, the Deputy Head’s office and her bed, respectively. Ada is reasonably confident she can calm down her wife by appealing to her vanity.

“I told you that inviting her was a mistake. I said countless times that she’ll only ruin things, and did you listen?”

“She didn’t ruin our wedding. Not once did she hex someone, turn anyone into a toad or pretend to be me - I assumed that’s why you said ‘I do, but only if you are absolutely, incontrovertibly the real Ada Cackle and not some pale imitation trying to trick me’, by the way - ”

 “I am not marrying Agatha, by mistake or otherwise, and if that meant rewriting my vows or casting a protective charm on our wedding night, then -” 

Ada would like to say something withering or shocked or in defence of her sister, but instead she just opens and closes her mouth a few times like a guppy. A guppy whose wife saw the need to use magic to ensure that she was having sex with the right sister.

“Oh, don’t look so horrified - I didn’t cast anything on you. I modified some ghastly wizard spell intended to act as a chastity belt on whatever poor, unsuspecting witch he married so that only you, with your exact magical signature, can touch me.”

“…of course you did, Hecate.” She supposes that, all things considered, it was a good thing that Hecate hadn’t ended up with Agatha, by magical deception or design. Her sister’s propensity for bad behaviour combined with Hecate’s love of research would bring about the apocalypse. A very well-ordered apocalypse where everyone spoke in modulated tines and walked in single file, but still. She snakes an arm around Hecate’s slender waist and pulls her close. “Lucky for you, you married the right witch.”

Hecate looks down at her, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. Sometimes, Ada wonders if her lipstick is only there to heighten the effect.

“You do realise that all the parents will know by now. And they’ll tell the girls. There’ll be anarchy - no one will take us seriously.”

It’s strange how someone can be so intelligent and so shockingly obtuse, but Hecate manages it. Hecate, who can sense a rule being broken from across the castle, but has no idea that her relationship has been common knowledge for years.

“I think the cat has been out of the bag for some time, Hecate,” Ada says gently.

Hecate looks like she wants to shout or cry, and maybe it was a mistake letting her think that they had been discreet.“How?”

This is hard enough without even more of a height barrier than normal, and Ada stands, embracing her wife tightly as though she could squeeze all the worry and self doubt away.

“Because I adore you and I’m a terrible liar. Because you look at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, even when I’m giving the girls a lecture on broomstick maintenance.”

“Well,” Hecate says quietly. “You are."

Ada kisses her softly. “Then does it really matter who knows that we’re married? Everyone knows we love each other. The finer details may, I grant, have slipped some people’s notice - ”

“Like Miss Bat,” supplies Hecate. “Which is impressive, since she actually attended the wedding. What on earth she thought we were doing up there, I have no idea. She must have noticed that I don’t dress like that on a daily basis!”

Ada looks fondly at the frame on her desk, the one that displays their wedding photograph between the hours of 9pm and 7am and a picture of Morgana as a kitten the rest of the time.

Hecate in a grey silk gown that clung to her figure, economies of fabric more than compensated for by the magnificent jet beading that traced patterns up the skirt and across the bodice. Ada in a tailored cream suit and low heels. 

“You looked so happy then.”

“I’m still happy, Ada.” Hecate looks as though she’s on the verge of tears, and while it’s not an entirely rare occurrence, having her actually break down is.

“I know," Ada shushes her with a kiss. "I never doubt that, not even when you’re telling me we’re presiding over the steepest decline of the Craft in recorded history. Which, may I remind you, we are not. But you are allowed to show it to the world, you know.”

“The girls will have a collective fit if I start giving my Potions lessons with a smile on my face.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think anyone will actually be surprised, my darling.”

Hecate’s mouth twists into a rueful grin. “I was.”

It’s been twelve years since Hecate Hardbroom walked into Cackle’s and captured Ada’s heart so completely. Ten years since she stopped dancing around the subject and found herself in front of the fire in this very room, looking at her Deputy Headmistress and knowing she could never live without her. Hecate, all dark-eyed intensity, wanting more but not knowing what and Ada’s mouth suddenly, greedily, on hers because the effort of not kissing her was too much. 

She’s kissing her like that again now but this time Hecate is kissing back immediately, hands roving all over Ada’s body as though she could never get enough of touching her. Her thigh is pressing between Ada’s legs, her hand cupping the curve of Ada’s breast and her heart is pounding so hard that Ada can feel it through the starched fabric.

Hecate pulls back, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m not ashamed of you, Ada. I’m not ashamed of us.”

There’s a reason Hecate’s favourite spells are transference and invisibility. Why she is perpetually cloaked in neck to floor dresses, make-up like warpaint when she's in public and nothing like the scrubbed-clean, snuggly woman who might go to bed in a demure nightdress but winds up sleeping naked more often than not. Well, that is usually at least partly Ada's fault. Hecate doesn't like to be seen without her guard down, and secretly Ada is glad t hat no one else sees her like this, soft and vulnerable and sweet.

She tells her wife as much and Hecate snorts.”You make me sound like a kitten.”

“Kittens scratch.”

A wicked smile, and Hecate is pressing kisses in _that spot_ beneath Ada’s ear. “I scratch, sometimes. You like that.” Her voice is low and sultry, her body pressed up against her.

Hecate is trapped between Ada and the desk.

“I like a lot of things.”

She licks a long, slow stripe up the other woman's neck before pausing to nibble at Hecate's own sensitive spot only to find her pulling away.

“I can’t. Not here. Not tonight. Not knowing they all know.”

The castle is empty apart from the staff in the East Wing and they know better than to disturb the Headmistress and her Deputy when they’re alone. But Ada still waves a hand and in a fraction of a second they’re tumbling onto the bed, giggling like schoolgirls rather than stalwarts of educational standards. Hecate’s hand is up her skirt, shameless when they’re alone, palm pressing against Ada’s clit through the damp silk of her knickers, fingers pressing through the material into her cunt. And she’s loud - gods, she’s _loud_. With wards and silencing charms she cast herself - it’s not that she doesn’t trust Ada, she had explained, she just feels more in control when she knows a job has been done properly. 

And she always does the job properly. Hecate is kissing her breasts through the cardigan and although Ada can’t feel it properly through the wool, the pressure feels divine.

She tugs at Hecate's dress, needing the soft flesh beneath more.  "Get this thing off. I want my wife, not my Deputy Headmistress."

Hecate blushes - neither of them are actually averse to bringing in the strict HB to the bedroom and frankly Ada finds being on the receiving end of that sharp tongue and sharper punishment exquisite - but she is naked before Ada can blink and by the time she has, Ada is naked too.

Frantic, messy kissing, tangled limbs, biting and agonising light touches until they find a rhythm that works - Hecate grinding her wetness against Ada's thigh as she slides her wonderfully talented fingers in, out, around, thumb pressing against her clit all the while until the pleasure gets too much and Ada is bucking under Hecate's touch and moaning her wife's name. She follows soon after, head back and hair everywhere as Ada tugs at a nipple with her teeth and pulls her down against her sticky, warm skin. The aftershocks are still trembling through Hecate when Ada eases her down onto the mattress and fucks her quickly and urgently with two fingers as Hecate begs her way incoherently into a second orgasm even wetter than the first. 

" _Mine_ ", she whispers possessively against her wife's lips. " _Mine."_

They're slipping into glorious post-coital sleep, when Ada remembers her final point in an argument that she supposes she had made convincingly by now.

“You know, the consensus among the girls is that we are…oh, what was the term. Ah yes - a ‘power couple’.”

“Hm.” Ada can feel the smirk settle on her wife’s face. “I think I can handle that.”


End file.
